Courting an Angel (Devereux Family, #5) by Patricia Grasso

Author:Patricia Grasso
Language: por
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Rob awakened late the following morning. Something cold and wet touched the tip of her nose, the

tickling sensation making it twitch. She opened her eyes and saw Smooches. His face pressed against

hers, and his dark eyes gazed at her dolefully.

“Good mornin', Smooches,” Rob said, moving her arms to encircle the pup.

The sound of her voice brought an instant reaction from him. He wagged his tail and licked her face,

which made her smile.

Setting the pup aside on the bed, Rob sat up and leaned back against the headboard. Where was her

husband? She hadn't awakened when he returned to their chamber the previous night, but his side of the

bed appeared rumpled so she knew he'd slept beside her.

Rob threw the coverlet back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She yawned and then

stretched like a sleek, half-grown she cat.

Should she dress and go below stairs? Rob wondered. Or should she wait for Gabby to attend her?

Whatever happened today would color her relationship with her husband's clan for a long, long time.

Rob wished she could speak with her mother. Without an older woman's guidance, how was she to

know what was expected of her? Insidious insecurity coiled itself around her heart; that familiar feeling of

worthlessness surfaced like an old friend ready to renew their acquaintance.

The door swung open suddenly. With several garments slung across her arm, Gabby marched into the

chamber like a smiling general.

“I'm glad yer awake,” the girl said, advancing on the bed. “'Tis verra late."

“Good mornin’ to ye too,” Rob greeted her.

“Sorry.” Gabby placed a black woolen skirt and a white, scooped-neck linen blouse down on the bed.

“Granny Biddy says ye'll wear this, and she'll help ye sort through the other gowns later. Should I help ye

dress? ‘Tis one of my duties, ye know."

“I believe I can manage on my own this mornin',” Rob said, refusing her offer. “Where's my breakfast

tray?"

“Well, my lady —"

“Call me Rob."

“Lady Rob, yer husband said that breakin’ the fast in yer bedchamber is a Sassenach custom,” Gabby

informed her. “He's waitin’ for ye in the hall."

Rob smiled, pleased that Gordon was thinking other. “Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes,” she

instructed the girl. It appeared that acquiring English habits had been easier than falling out of a tree.

Hopefully, losing those habits would prove just as easy.

“Prepare yerself to meet the great clan Campbell,” Gabby warned, and then disappeared out the door.

Rob washed the sleep from her face and then dressed in the skirt and the blouse that had once belonged

to her husband's mother. She brushed her ebony mane and let it cascade loosely to her waist. Finished

with her morning toilet, Rob donned her beggar bead necklace.

Though she was the MacArthur laird's daughter, Rob was a stranger at Inverary Castle. How could she

know what forces might be set against her? Caution was never wasted; the MacArthur clan's children

had taught her that important lesson.

“'Tis yer turn,” Rob told Smooches. She dressed him in the sweater she'd knitted and then scooped him

up into the crook other left arm.

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